Within 72 hours of death, they begin to speak in metaphors of journey. They request their shoes, or their plane tickets or demand to go home when they are home. When my sister lay dying of breast cancer, she said, as if frustrated, “I don’t know how to leave,” and spoke of “hapless flight attendants.”
The other drummers and I marched in the parade.
Answer:
The cigar of the cow thief
Explanation:
